May 30, 2011

• It Ain't Over...

  written and unposted on May 8, 2011

  I don't care if the fat lady's singing or not. The truth is, she's sung so many times that I've stopped expecting it to be over. 

  So I guess the best way to describe these last few days/weeks is this: a crucible. Because I'm a high school teacher, the first thing that pops into my mind when I think about this is "THE Crucible." You know. The play about witches and trials and... McCarthyism? I told you I was a teacher. 

  But I'm not talking about Arthur Miller's play. Does anyone really know what a crucible is? 

  

  It's this little jar usually made out of white ceramic. It looks like a mortar and pestle, which is used to grind things up, but there's a key difference. It's not for grinding; it's for heating. These crucibles are supposed to withstand enough temperature to chemically change whatever's in the jar. It's usually recruited in labs, or in making things like metal and glass. There is a whole lot of heat involved. 

  And even as I say this, it's pretty ridiculous. The events that precipitated this is long and arduous and too numerous to list here. It was, in essence, the perfect storm. Or, I should say, it is. But at face value, the trial is relatively small. I can only surmise that this was a lesson handed to me. And importantly, the usual "it's probably a boy thing" is not true in this case. Far from it.  

  The good news is that I discovered that my faith was not a house of cards. A house of cards crumbles with a removal or a card or two, especially from the base. My house... it was like fire damage. The basement is ok, but part of the roof has caved in to the living area, and there's water damage from the fire fighters, and a lot of things are charred. It's still a bit useless to try and live in. 

  So God is still calling me higher, to more changes, to a better realization of Him. I've seen people go through this experience before, and I never really knew their heart. And all the people who offer disinterested criticisms, or misguided rebukes, or thoughtless corrections... I know they have no idea. They're like Job's wife, or his friends, who really. Had. No. Idea. In the end, Job had to intercede and pray for them. I imagine it was for both their sakes. 

  Time is and odd thing, though. Even as the lessons are not yet complete, the emotions are already blurring away at the edges. And so I've clung to the pit. In what seems and feels like utter stupidity. I don't want to leave this unchanged. 

  And so this house needs rebuilding. Not remodeling. Not resurfacing. It needs to be razed. With the good stuff and bad stuff. With the stuff I want to keep, and the stuff that needed to be chucked anyway. God is not a remodeler, after all, right? He's in the business of creating new things. 

  

  And so. Here is the lesson. Even in the peak of our spiritual experience, in our fastings and in our prayings... in our purity, in our selflessness... all this still required the sacrifice of God's dear Son. How heinous is sin, that even when we perceive ourselves as ok--maybe not perfect, but at least better-than-before, or lookin'-pretty-good, or maybe the unfortunate better-than-that-other-guy, Christ had to die. His sacrifice has no respect of persons or rank or relative goodness. We need as much grace as does a woman with seven demons cast out of her. Seventy times seven times. 

  Lesson two. There will be questions that have no answers. Time becoming history might tell. It might not. Heaven, however, will. Submission to God and a deep (really, really deep)-seeded understanding and belief in the goodness of God's character is key to overcoming this. There are things in life we cannot control. People we cannot protect or move out of the reach of His arm. The breath in our lungs are all borrowed air. 

  Lesson three. There are times when we need God. But there are also times when God needs us. In the case of Job, Job was called upon to be a spectacle unto the world. Not because Job deserved punishment, but because he could endure it. Not because of sin or presumption or lack of faith, but precisely because he had faith. God needed Job to be one who could be considered. Tried. Crucibled. At the expense of people who seemingly had nothing to do with him directly: this servants. His animals. His children. This is no consolation. But this world is no party, and we ought to stop thinking of it as one. Job endured. Who are we to do any less? 

  And just as we need God just the same whether we be in the mountains or in the pit or in the crucible, God is also present in each of those places. Still gentle. Still kind. Not walking around with a "Board of Education" poised to strike us unawares, but with the heart of a Father who chastens and loves. And can we not love Him back, who gave us all? Can we not justify Him? Can we stop being "fair weather" friends with a God who sticks to us amidst all our mood swingyness? Can we say, "God is good," and vindicate Him even as it seems as if He slays us? 

  It's not over. But it's almost over. It's been exhausting. I am most grateful for the prayers I know have been assisting me. I am most grateful for friends who care enough to listen, and to help, and to aid, even in the smallest ways. There is yet much to learn, much to do, much higher heights to attain. There is much conferencing with the Head of the Heavenly Department. 

  I've redesigned my site and renamed it. It's spring. The time for new beginnings, and if you're on a high school campus, new relationships. 

  • 12:41 pm
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